


First Impressions

by sarahrepin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Marauders' Era, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: School Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-06
Updated: 2009-03-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahrepin/pseuds/sarahrepin
Summary: Anya despised Sirius from the moment she first laid eyes on him and made sure that he knew it. She was annoyed by his presence. Sirius found her attitude irritating. Anya knew nothing good could come of their interactions. Sirius used to feel the same way but then shocked himself when he found he was wishing the opposite. They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression.*Thanks to RemusJLupin/Adrian for the summary help*





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to my Beta Sitara aka Voldy_Mort and also to my sister (who put up with HP fanfics just for my sake)  


* * *

         

**Chapter One**

  


It was the worst of times.  Anya Volkova was sitting on the swing, looking up at the clear blue sky and  wishing that she was at home in St Petersburg sipping tea in her father's  garden rather than here in the cold England air wearing a flimsy _dress,_ of all things. It didn't interest  her in the least to step back into the party Aunt Ekaterina had thrown  especially for her. All the wizarding neighbours and most of the pureblood  families living in London  had been invited.

  
  


Of course, Anya knew that  Aunt Ekat had meant well, she always did, but that didn't make much of a difference  to an eleven-year-old girl whose father had just died last month. To make  matters even worse, she had been forced to leave The Lyceum, the magical school  she had been attending for about a year, and move to England. All in all, it didn’t make  for a very happy Anya.

  
  
 

“Anya!” Aunt Ekaterina  stuck her head out from the door, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Well,  what are you doing there? Come here, darling, there’s someone I want you to  meet.”

  
  
 

_Here we go again_ , Anya thought, rolling her  eyes as she slipped on her black sandals and trudged her way to the door. “Yes,  Aunt Ekat?”

  
  


“There you are.” She  beamed, touching Anya’s hand lightly. Her other hand was clutching a half-empty wine glass. “C’mon, this is a friend of your mum and I when we were younger,  Jane Portley.”

  
  


“It’s so nice to meet you,  Anya,” gushed the chubby middle-aged woman, grabbing Anya’s liberated hand with  gusto. “Your mum, Kat and I, we used to get into such trouble growing up. Gave  your grandfather quite a hard time there, I believe she did.” Jane Portley gave  a short laugh, reminiscing. “Always was a beauty, your mother. Her eyes--” She  made a gesture of flying sparks. “-- gave me spooks to look at them, blue like  the brightest sky! Made all the boys cry when she got married to your dad.”  There was a pause and Anya shuffled her feet awkwardly, already knowing what  was coming up next. “Shame you don’t look more like her, really.” Jane and Aunt  Ekaterina sighed in unison, with the latter patting Anya’s head in a comforting  manner.

  
  
 

“Umm, thanks,” Anya said,  raising an eyebrow sceptically. She was never sure what to say at these events.  “If you’d excuse me...” Whirling around on her feet, she walked as calmly as she  could towards the drinks. 

  
  
 

“Punch please,” she told  the house-elf, taking in the various bottle sizes that lined the counter. There  was enough to intoxicate the whole of London  but then again, Aunt Ekaterina had never been one for modesty. Drink in hand,  Anya made her way outside again but the seat on the swing had already been  taken by a teenage couple sucking face. Anya grimaced and spun, deciding  instead to rest by the birch tree. In her haste, she bumped head-first into a  brick wall. The sudden impact jolted her to the floor.

  
  


“Oww!” she groaned and  clutched at her knee. The brick wall was actually a boy. Anya noticed that he  was young, probably her age or at the most a couple of years older. “Watch  where you’re going, next time.”

  
  
 

“Me?” he cried. “You’re the  one who knocked into _me_! Look what  you did!” The boy narrowed his eyes at her, and then surveyed his soiled  clothes. He carried himself with an air of casual arrogance, as if no one had  ever said no to him in his entire life. Anya came to the conclusion that he  must have arrived with one of the pureblood families. She knew that some of the  families, hers included, were very rich and powerful and their lineage could be  traced back to hundreds upon thousands of years back. Even when his face was  contorted into an angry scowl, there was a haughtiness to it that infuriated  Anya. 

  
  
 

“ _I_ did that? Well, if you weren’t stuck on your own little planet,  you’d actually notice where you were walking,” snapped Anya, brushing off the  sand that had been stuck onto her white dress. 

  
  
 

“Well, maybe if _you_ weren’t  such a fat cow, I wouldn’t have to manoeuvre myself around you,” he snarled.

  
  


Anya drew in a sharp intake  of air and clenched her fist. “You -” she sputtered. Not knowing any English  words that would express what she wanted to say, she ended up throwing in his  face the remaining of her pink fruit punch. It didn’t make much of a splatter  but at least gave her some satisfaction of seeing his eyes grew dark with fury.

  
  


“You little -“ 

“Sirius Black!” screeched  someone who Anya presumed to be his mother. She must have been just slightly older than Aunt Ekat but, with a  menacing expression on her face, looked to be almost ninety. “A disgrace to the House of Black! Filthy  little toerag! Apologize to the girl immediately!”

  
  


This earned Anya a pointed  look, so intimidating that it made the young girl gulp. “I’m. . . sorry,” he croaked out. His grey eyes turned black in anger. 

  
  


“Apology accepted,” replied  Anya, uneasily. She was looking at the old woman, who was now glaring at her  through the slits of her eyes.

“We must go now, Sirius.” The words spoken were sharp and cold. “Regulus  is getting tired. Come, boy.” Sirius went with her, turning around to give Anya  his dirtiest look. And Anya smiled her sweetest smile, waving and mouthing a  goodbye to him in return. 

 

* * *

 

  
  
 

“Goodbye, dear,” said Aunt  Ekat, kissing her niece briskly on the cheek twice. “Make sure you write us when  you’re all settled in, and Thomas, just keep on eye on her will you?”

  
  


“Sure,  Mom.” Thomas made a face and pushed his mother’s hand away as she tried to hug  him. “I told you not to do this anymore, my friends will see.” He sighed and  stepped around her, keeping a look-out for his friends. “There’s Jonathan now,  I’ll see you at Christmas, Mom, Dad. Love you!” Without a backward glance,  Thomas dashed to where a boy with ash-blonde hair was standing. 

  
  
 

“All  right now, dear.” Aunt Ekaterina straightened up Anya’s Muggle clothes, keeping  a smile on her face. Anya had never met her mother but from the photographs her  father kept in his study, she knew that her mother and Aunt Ekat had been  twins. Both had dark brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that twinkled when they  smiled. “Off you go, before all the compartments are full.”

  
  
 

The  platform was filling up fast with families saying goodbye left and right. “I  better go then,” she said. “I’d _hate_ to miss the train.” She hurriedly got on the train after being subjected to  another hug from Aunt Ekat and Uncle George. 

  
  
 

Upon  finding a secluded compartment, she sat down near the window and sighed in  relief. It had been such a rollercoaster ride. Aunt Ekat had written an  emergency owl to confirm her place in Hogwarts, the English version of The  Lyceum. Whereas she had already started school a year ago when she was ten,  English wizards begin their training at eleven. When she suggested to Aunt Ekat  that she might continue her studies in St    Petersburg, her remark was brushed aside without  another thought. “Nonsense.” Aunt Ekat had said, chuckling. “You’ve still got  family, Anya, and I’ll make bloody certain that you’ll get the best we can give  you.” Apparently that had meant selling her childhood home, moving her to a  country where she didn’t know _anyone,_ other than her cousin that is, and taking her out of her school.

  
  
 

Hogwarts  itself was magnificent. While The Lyceum looked as if carved in white lime  stone with its soaring towers perfectly placed in the school’s corners,  Hogwarts was a large mess of grey stones with towers jutting out in diverse  combination. The first years had taken the boat-ride to Hogwarts, crossing over  a vast lake so murky Anya could just barely see her reflection in it. 

  
  
 

“What  are we supposed to do now?” she whispered, nudging the girl who was sitting  next to her. They had been ushered into a rather large hall with ceilings that reflected the night sky. She hated to admit it but Hogwarts was turning out to be quite an experience. The girl looked appalled at being spoken to but replied anyway.

  
  
 

“We’re  being _sorted_ , obviously.” She turned  away then, the swish of her jet-black hair brushed Anya’s cheek. 

  
  
 

Anya  rolled her eyes. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you too,” she muttered darkly. She  fixed her eyes on the stage as a stern woman in black stepped towards the  centre.

  
  
 

“As I  call upon your name, please come up and join me,” Her lips were curved in a  tight smile. “Adams, Katherine.”

  
  


The  girl, of short stature with brown, mousy hair, gulped nervously and made her  way to the stage. Anya watched with great anticipation, wondering how they were  going to get _sorted_ as  that girl had called it and wished she had thought to ask Thomas about it sooner. There was a dirty hat in the witch’s hands and when  Katherine got to the stage, she was asked to sit and the hat was placed on top  of her head. A few seconds later, the hat -  yes, the _hat_   – cried out, “Gryffindor!”  


  
“Merlin’s beard, the hat can _talk_?” Anya blinked a few times, testing herself to see if she might have dreamt that up.   


  
“Well, it _is_ the Sorting Hat, now isn’t it?” The black-haired girl replied, rolling her eyes in what Anya suspected was exasperation.  


  
Anya fell silent. Her gaze was transfixed on the stage as more and more students got sorted into their prospective houses. Thomas had told her about them briefly, as he was packing his trunk. There were four – Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. He was in Gryffindor; he had told her so with pride. There hadn’t been enough time for Anya to ask more questions about Hogwarts like how students chose their houses and besides, Thomas didn’t seem so talkative. The whole time she was at Aunt Ekat’s house – her new home – he had been listening to the Quidditch match broadcast on the Wizard Wireless.   


  
“Black, Sirius!”   


  
There was an outburst from the older students. They hooted and clapped their hands. Slytherins. Anya had gathered as much from the way they were dressed – in green and silver colours. To her surprise, it was the Brick Wall she had met a few nights ago. He was tall for an eleven-year-old, and wore a sullen expression as he stomped his way to the chair. He sat there for a good minute or two before the hat cried, “Gryffindor!”  


  
The silence was deafening. Sirius Black sat with his eyes closed tightly, praying that whichever hex that hit him wasn’t going to scar his face too badly. To his pleasant surprise, it never hit. Narcissa, the youngest of his three cousins, had stood up and shouted, “Furnunculus!” but the jet of red shooting out of her wand had been met with a jet of orange light, from the stern witch’s wand.  


  
“There would be no duelling here, Ms. Black,” she said coldly, pocketing her wand. “Mr. Black, you may take your seat at the Gryffindor table.” Sirius nodded and walked slowly towards the table but no one dared to look him in the eye, afraid either of him or his cousin and her friends. "You're dead to me now, Sirius," whispered Narcissa, gripping her wand threateningly, as Sirius walked past her. As he took his seat, a few students visibly flinched and shifted their seats a couple of inches away.   


  
Anya observed this exchange with curiosity, narrowing her grey eyes when they met with his. She hasn’t quite forgiven him for calling her a fat cow. The other students were not quite as fascinating, sorted into houses after pulling the mangy hat for less than a few seconds.   


  
“Mallory, Gregory!”   


  
Anya stifled a laugh, ignoring the looks given by the pale girl next to her. The boy, Gregory, was also tall and had dark hair. He was sorted into Ravenclaw.  


  
“Mallory, Valerie!”  


  
This time, the usually quiet Anya couldn’t help herself. She burst into laughter, clapping her hands together as she did so. “What kind of names are those?” she gasped out, still chuckling. Noticing that not a single person had joined in her mirth, Anya cleared her throat and gracelessly put on a smile on her face. “I’m sorry, do go on.” She smiled encouragingly at the girl, who was just holding the hat in her hands glaring at her.   


  
“Hufflepuff!” the hat cried.  


  
It seemed an eternity before her own name was called. “Volkova, Anya!”  
  
She walked towards the stage calmly, feeling a blush creep up her neck. Firm hands placed the shabby grey hat on her head.   


  
_Hmm…Anya Volkova is it? You’ve got brains in you, my girl, you’ll do wonders in_ “Ravenclaw!” The table decorated with blue flags and banners clapped enthusiastically as Anya made her way down to sit, feeling contented.   


  
After all the students were sorted (there weren’t many left after V), a tall man walked onto the stage, his blue eyes twinkled under the light of the ‘stars’ of the Great Hall. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he began, winking in the direction of the first years. “For all students, I would like to give a word of caution. There has been a recent addition to our grounds. The Whomping Willow is not a tree to be trifled with and I would suggest that anybody wishing to receive Christmas gifts to not wander too far. A reminder from Mr. Filch- the forbidden forest is still, as of this time, forbidden for all students.” He paused slightly and then clapped his hands. “Let’s eat!”  


  
All sorts of delicious dishes appeared suddenly on the enormous dining table. Anya watched as other students piled up the food on their plate, reaching for the mashed potatoes.  


  
“Hi, I’m Adele. Adele Reed,” said the girl on her left. She had long blonde hair up to her waist and fair skin with freckles on her cheeks. Adele wore an angelic smile as she reached to shake hands with Anya. “You’re Anya right? It’s a nice name. I’m so excited to be starting Hogwarts, aren’t you?”  


  
“I am!” interrupted the boy sitting opposite of Adele. It was the Breedlove boy. “I’m Robin. Breedlove. Funny name, I know, blame it on my ancestors.” He shrugged casually, with an air of self-importance that reminded Anya of the Brick Wall. “And I sure am glad to be in Ravenclaw. If I’d made Slytherin, I’d never have been accepted back home again, I’m sure.”  


  
“I know,” mused Adele, grinning widely now. “Ravenclaw’s the best house. We’ve been winning the House Cup for quite a few years now.”  


  
“And you lot better keep it up,” chimed in an older student, a pimply faced boy who looked about fifteen.   


  
“What’s Ravenclaw all about?” a small girl with owlish eyes and strawberry-blonde hair asked.  


  
“Oh, we’re the best out of all four houses,” Adele answered confidently. “Rowena Ravenclaw, that’s our founder, she was the smartest out of all the four Hogwarts founders. If it wasn’t for her, Hogwarts wouldn’t be like it is now, that’s positive. Are you a Muggle-born?”  


  
“Yes,” the girl replied, smiling shyly. “My name is Abigail Sutton.”   


  
“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands over the table. “So, when did you get your Hogwarts letter? I got mine two months ago. My mom was ever so excited. Dad’s a Muggle and Mom wasn’t so sure if I’m a witch.”  


  
“I got mine last month,” said Abigail. “Gave my parents quite a shock too, it did. I was a bit relieved, to tell you the truth. Just last year I was out with my family for brunch, you know, and I didn’t want to eat my peas and I wished that they’d disappear and they did! Well, they turned into bees and we had to change tables but at least I didn’t have to eat them!”  


  
“What about you Anya?”  


  
“I never got my letter,” she said it without even looking up, attacking the carrots on her plate instead. “I suppose it was sent to my aunt’s and she must have replied to it.”  


  
“Oh. Well, you’ll love it here,” Adele beamed brightly. “My mom said Hogwarts is the best Wizarding school in the world. She was in Ravenclaw too, you know.”  


  
“Wow, a legacy,” Abigail said with admiration.  


  
“What’s so good about Hogwarts anyway?” snapped Anya, glaring at the two girls. They recoiled instantly at her tone. “Can the both of you just shut it about Ravenclaw and how amazing it is? I’m so sick of hearing it.”   


  
“I was just excited – “ began Abigail, biting her lower lip.  


  
“Well, stop acting like such a pushover and grow a backbone will you?”  


  
The table was hushed except for those too far to hear the outburst. Adele looked miffed. “Sorry if it offended you, Anya. If you don’t like it here, why did you come? We all know Russia’s got the Lyceum and you’re Russian right?”  


  
“You think I _want_ to be here?” scoffed the brunette, placing her fork down with a clatter. “Think again. Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of superficial girls with nothing but air in their heads.”  


  
“Lighten up, Anya,” the pimply boy jumped in. His eyes were cold now, uninviting and severe. “You don’t even know anything about this school and like my mom always said, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” He scowled, after which all that was heard was murmurs of agreements around the area of the table.   


  
“It’s going to be a _long_ year,” Adele mumbled, sighing.  


  
  



End file.
